


Without Certainty

by extremiss



Category: South Park
Genre: Crushes, Drabble, High School, M/M, Skipping Class
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 17:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1907379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extremiss/pseuds/extremiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Craig is apathetic to literally everyone. </p><p>(Okay, maybe not <em>everyone</em>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without Certainty

**Author's Note:**

> hiii ok this is like my first sp thing ever bc i just got into this fandom recently sooo enjoy, i guess! <3

Craig doesn't deem anyone more tolerable than any other person. Everyone is just as much of an annoying dickwad to him as everyone else is.   
  
  
  
...or at least it's what he tells himself.   
  
  
  
There's nothing about Tweek—absolutely _nothing_ —he cares about. Not the misaligned buttons on his shirt. Not his unruly blonde hair. Not his smell—a mixture of the coffee he's so addicted to, and the citrus of his shampoo. Not his blatant and ever-present slip-ups in speech and his stuttering off-topic paranoid rambles.   
  
And yet... And yet he can't fathom why his eyes choose to follow the blonde, without him having to will them to. It's interesting and not to mention fucking irritating how the human body can do certain things on autopilot. It's more irritating now more than anything though, because Tweek's caught him watching him intently.  
  
"C-Craig?"  
  
Craig furrows his eyebrows. "What."  
  
They were currently by the lockers, among a plethora of school folk. The groups have only begun to disperse, as the ghost of a bell rings on soon. Tweek confusedly fiddles with his fingers, his shoulders moving in almost-minuscule little shakes. "I don't—Agh!—know, but y-you're kind of, ah, glaring at me?"  
  
Glaring? Okay, Craig's aware he was staring, but glaring? Is that really how normal face looked? Because if so, that's worrying news. "Was not." Craig says instead.  
  
"Were too! What's wrong? Jesus, are you a-angry at me? Oh, god! Are you going t-to hit me—"  
  
" _Christ_ , just shut the fuck up." Craig lifts a hand onto Tweek's shoulder, an action gentler than Craig had liked it to be. Maybe he thought Tweek was fragile, which doesn't make sense at all because the latter had proven he wasn't. Craig doesn't have a clue why he acts so differently now; it's all one big conundrum to him, despite how little the personality difference might seem from a different vantage point. The sudden physical contact makes the latter jump, but he doesn't move away from the touch all the same. "I'm not gonna hit you and I'm not angry."  
  
That doesn't really put Tweek at ease, nor should it. They're not exactly the best of friends, and they've barely talked since Craig somewhat accidentally coerced Tweek into eating with his friends in the cafeteria. This caused awkward silences interrupted by what else? Tweek's panicked rambling. (Whoops, Craig's bad.) Most of the times Craig is being a nice and boring with Clyde and Token, which was alright with him. The other's life is less peaceful although, because Tweek is freaking out and working hardcore shifts at the coffee shop 24/7. Naturally, they don't get much opportunities cross paths. They're just too far apart, Craig realizes now that he ponders over it more. They're a dichotomy. And to forge anything close to a real friendship might even be impossible. They might never go past being acquaintances. The thought strangely makes Craig kind of sad, if he were honest. But Craig isn't the honest type.   
  
"Hey, junkie. What's your next class?" The oddly affectionate nickname doesn't seem to put Tweek off. At least not in the way it does Craig. He doesn't even know why he's come up with it then. Damn it, Craig.  
  
"History." Tweek replies. His stutter is barely heard this time around.  
  
"Ah, me too." Craig lies. His next subject was Math. "Let's walk together."  
  
"Gah! What—what do y-you want from m-me?" Tweek distances himself from Craig, reverting back to his jumpy and nervous demeanor. Craig tries not to feel a pang of disappointment at the fact that Tweek still can't trust him despite the wonderful efforts of socialization Craig has put out.   
  
Okay, maybe his efforts weren't _so_ wonderful. Also, he did punch Tweek in the face once. (Just once! Back in elementary.) But to his credit, Craig will rarely talk to anyone outside of his stupid dorky friendship group anyway. That's a huge fucking effort. "Dude, I don't want anything from you. Just a little chat, I guess."   
  
"C-Chat...?" Tweek is digging his nails so deep into his forearms, Craig's sure there were bound to be marks even with the thin fraying fabric of Tweek's shirt guarding his skin. Tweek dares to look up at Craig under his eyelashes—his eyes are the greenest Craig's ever seen. Or maybe that was because Craig's never paid attention to much of anyone else's anything. The more he looks at them, the more he's convinced they weren't eyes, but actual emeralds.  
  
"Don't you ever talk to people normally or something?" The raven-haired boy says off-handedly. But he sees how Tweek stiffens and how his mouth opens to reply. "Actually, no. Don't answer that."  
  
In the end, Tweek acquiesces to Craig's request. He follows the taller one closely behind, words flying off from his mouth faster than he could keep them in. Craig listens to every word, every thought, every hanging syllable, soaking all these new Tweek information up like a sponge. Usually it wouldn't obvious due to his uncaring and stoic facade. But his facade is cracking, no thanks to a certain blondie.  
  
He feels this unfamiliar, irrational warmth well up in his chest. He finds himself so goddamn endeared by said blondie, that despite himself, the slightest of smiles show up on his face. "I d-didn't notice you had braces."  
  
This makes him thin his grin into a line. He self-consciously covers his mouth with the back of his hand, eyebrows furrowed and cheeks turning pink. This was uncharacteristic of him.  
  
"Gah! I-I'm sorry. I didn't know—know that y-you hate them or s-something." Tweek blurts out. "God, but it's f-fine to like them! I-I'm just saying that if y-you did—"  
  
"Okay, I get it." Craig waves a hand dismissively. Tweek wants to say something more, Craig can tell by how he twitches. "Didn't know you had freckles." He tells Tweek instead, to steer themselves away from that conversation.  
  
"Oh! Y-Yeah, I do, don't I-I? Shit, do th-they look weird? Oh, J-Jesus." Now Tweek was the one feeling around his face. Upon closer inspection, Craig was able find light dots scattered along Tweek's cheeks and atop the bridge of the nose.  
  
 _They're cute._ "They look fine, jeez." Craig reassures him. At this, Tweek lets his hands fall to his side, feeling his anxiety slowly subside. They walk some more until they reach the end of the hallway; history class was located in the room to the left of the washroom. Tweek thanks him, a sincerely grateful smile gracing his usually tired-as-hell face. He had wanted to shrug it off nonchalantly, but the adorable twinkle in Tweek's eyes are enough to make Craig smile too. He notes he's been smiling a lot within those past few minutes, but maybe it's just an effect of being with Tweek. No one really has such a weird immediate effect on him like Tweek did.  
  
He watches Tweek disappear into the doorframe, hearing the faintest sound of his panicked apologies—he's fifteen minutes late and it's really all Craig's fault. Things usually were. When he's gone, Craig shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, walks to the opposite side, and considers skipping the rest of the day.  
  
It's only when history class has ended, and the chairs have cleared—Craig is nowhere in sight—that Tweek realizes Craig didn't actually have history that day. Tweek smiles stupidly at his desk, cheeks heating up, and freckles fading into his blush.


End file.
